The Story of a Lifetime
by Jacthine
Summary: Alfred stumbles upon a diary, found in an abandoned house and once belonging to a man by the name of Ivan Braginski. As he reads through it, learning of the man's constant struggles with his family and own self, Alfred can't help but begin to feel unnatural attachment to him and feel just as he did so long ago. (( I suck at summaries, but trust me, the story's much better... ))


There was nothing Alfred loved more than learning and discovering new things. Whether it be at school or just the vast outdoors, he yearned for a sense of knowing, for a grasp on how everything worked and went about life. And that's why you'll find him on any given weekend, exploring creeks, factories, even sewers should he be given the opportunity to explore one; and this weekend was no exception.

His latest search for a better understanding of the world brought him to an abandoned house, found by his brother Matthew. Once the man caught sight of it, he knew it was perfect for his adventure seeking twin and called the other up right away, the excited chatter on the other end enough to know it was a good choice to offer the setting. And he was completely right; once Alfred saw the house, he knew he was going to leave with something, whether mentally, physically, or possibly both.

Stranded on a long stretch of road, houses separated by so much as a mile, stood an overgrown field, holding within it a desolate home. Two stories, nothing special looking or too old. The plants around it – wheat, various wold flowers – had overtaken the house, engulfing it in a strange beauty despite the broken windows and dreary appearance. Looking about ready to cave in and become one with the open land surrounding it, the house was left for any and all to come in. Well, all being only two people.

Because even though Alfred had the aching need to find out the mysteries of the small town he lived in, the man wasn't careless. Most of the time that is. He always brought a friend, likely one who had nothing to do and loved seeing the wonder light up in the blond's eyes as he found something to add to his large collection of treasures found while exploring. Having someone there with him gave him the opportunity to document his comments and help him should he ever get hurt or scared (something he would _never_ admit to doing).

On this certain outing, Alfred was accompanied by Gilbert, a friend who he worked with and a drinking buddy of his. The albino man was more than willing to come along with him, claiming that Alfred 'would need the help of his awesome presence'. This statement was quickly proven wrong as Gilbert saw the house, looking at it with uneasiness clear on his face. Seeing this, Alfred smiled and laughed, patting the German on the back a little too hard.

"Come on Gil, don't tell me you're scared of an itty-bitty house?" Alfred mocked, walking towards it as his brother's truck drove off. Matthew had taken them and dropped them off, promising to come back in forty minutes – just enough time for Alfred to look at every crack in the house. Looking back over his shoulder to where Gilbert was still standing, staring at the seemingly menacing house, he scoffed. "You can't be serious Gil. Though I do understand if this house is too _awesome_ for you." And like a moth to a flame, the albino huffed and jogged up to Alfred, taking on the silent challenge the blond had laid out.

The duo walked up to the front door, paint peeling and wood beginning to rot. There were marks on the frame were it looked as though someone had tried to nail the door shut, but whatever was blocking it was now gone. The fact only made Gilbert's nerves rise as Alfred reached for the doorknob, only to find it wouldn't budge with the small amount of force.

"Are you sure about this? I mean, it not opening could be a sign from God telling us we shouldn't go in. We should just call up Maple and tell him to come pick us up. Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Hey Alfie, mind if we do that? This house is old anyway, why would -" Gilbert's nervous rambling was cut off by the American heaving his body right at the door, effectively opening it with a loud cracking sound and flakes of molding paint drifting into the air and floating down to rest with the plants.

Alfred coughed a little, blinking at the dust that had been disturbed as he walked to stand in the door opening after stumbling into the house. Once the air had cleared and he had mentally deemed the house safe so far, the man smiled towards Gilbert. "Oh look, it's open!" he joked, turning on his heel and walking into the house, the German catching up to him in a few seconds.

The two stopped, the small hallway leading them directly to what was once a living room. The wallpaper was faded, the pattern on it damaged beyond recognition. Couches, ripped up and most likely bug infested, sat on opposite sides of the room, another hallway just past one. A smashed and possibly burned coffee table sat in the middle of the room, on it papers with scribbled writing in a language either of them could place.

But what caught their attention wasn't the horrible state in which the room was in. It wasn't the mice darting across the floor, scrambling to hide from them. No, it was the bookcases, lining the entire wall apposite to them and almost overloaded with books. When they both walked forward (hesitant to even breath), they found the same language as before printed into the spines of some of the books, the clearer letters allowing them to see it was actually Russian. All the others that weren't in the foreign language were in English, both of the men reading off classic tales like Little Woman and Pride and Prejudice.

"The person who used to live here must have been a total loser," Gilbert scoffed quietly, as if talking any louder would cause the house to collapse. The man looked over to Alfred for at least some recognition of his little comment, only to find the other immerse in the books. Running his hand over their spines, the faintest moving of his lip a sign he was reading off the titles; to be honest, it freaked the albino out a bit. "Alfie, you okay? If you are, can we cut this short? This house is creeping me out."

And though Gilbert was close, voice a little raised from before, Alfred still didn't turn. He might not have liked books much, always preferring comics over novels, but it fascinated him to see such a display of them, neat and coated with a thick layer of dust after all this time. As he skimmed through the sides of them, ignoring all complaints from Gilbert, his eyes caught and stayed on one certain book, his feet stopping to inspect it further.

It had no name, the side bound with what looked like slightly cracked leather. Alfred ran his index finger along the small strip of bounding, muttering something to himself. Then, very carefully, he placed the finger at the top, pulling down and getting the book out of the tightly packed row of novels. It slid with some resistance, but with a little time and teasing, Alfred got it out and was able to keep it in one piece.

The front of it finally revealed to him, Alfred looked down and didn't even notice when Gilbert came near and looked over his shoulder. The edge of the pages were once shiny, both of the men could tell, but it had worn off and now only showed the smallest flecks of dull gold. On the front, there was the leathery texture again, but this time there was words, written in what seemed the darkest ink imaginable, covered up the tiniest bit by a thicker leather strap holding the book closed. The words, two of them, were in Russian, preventing Alfred and Gilbert from knowing what actually lay inside. The blond turned the book over, finding nothing but the same rough binding and the latch for the strap on the back. It was only when he looked at everything the book had to offer on the outside that he faced Gilbert.

A smile, almost bringing light to the shaded room, was stretched across the American's face, and the albino could only sigh. "You're gonna take that, aren't you?" A nod and the rustling of a backpack coming off answered Gilbert's question. Alfred stuck the book within his bag, zipping it back up and back around his arms. The smile was still there, a sign that the man was far beyond satisfied already, and Gilbert was one to always acknowledge this. "Great, you got something, now can we leave?"

"No," came Alfred's simple answer, his feet going off to the hallway next to the couch, a reluctant German behind him. The house still had more to discover, and Alfred planned on seeing it _all_.

And soon, the blond found himself in a kitchen, broken shards and rusted pots scattered throughout the room. Staring in wonder, Alfred maneuvered through the maze of sharp objects, no doubt holding diseases of all kinds. Gilbert, never being one to like being careful and such, stayed where he was, wondering why the hell he would go on to the death trap of a kitchen instead of walking up the stairs where everything looked seemingly safe. "Get back here! Are you crazy?! You're gonna get AIDS or something if you stay in there too long!" the albino hissed, taking pictures of the disastrous room nonetheless.

Looking back, Alfred just laughed and shook his head. "Gil, I'm fine! Not like I'm gonna slip and fall!" he called back, eyes focusing back on not doing exactly that. What he really wanted to get in the room was something he spotted and that something caused him to take a little detour. Normally, he would think the trek to get the item would be a little too dangerous, but after looking at it for a minute or two and finding out it was a small framed picture, the man had a small debate inside his head. And since Alfred found pictures from the past being one of the greatest finds one could get on these little excursions, he threw safety to the wind and was now about half way to it.

With a few more planned jumps and ballerina steps, he managed to get to the frame, finding it was just about the only thing not broken and standing in the kitchen besides the appliances. In front of the small table it lay upon was a small clearing void of any glass or anything else that would have hurt; it was just big enough for someone to kneel or sit. This intrigued Alfred of course, but what got his attention first was the picture.

It was colored once, the brightness of it terribly faded along with the edges slightly torn, that much obvious through the glass protection. In the picture was four people; one very large man, a smaller one with his arms wrapped loosely around the waist of a seemingly young and pretty girl, and a robust woman looking thoroughly pleased. The bigger man, one with a large nose and smile to match, was actually the point of Alfred's interest. Though he had never thought of himself as a specific sexuality, he had to admit, the man in the photograph was_ incredibly_ attractive to him. Maybe it was his love for the slightly soft features of his face or the big frame, but either way, Alfred had to force his eyes away from the man to even look at the other people next to him.

The smaller man, one who looked awfully nervous yet happy, Alfred didn't dwell much time on. He looked normal, with his shoulder length hair and genuine smile. The girl he had in his arms was beautiful, though her face was anything but happy. Though, after some closer looking, Alfred saw the smallest of turns at the corner of her lips, and he was glad to see she felt at least some kind of emotion. Now the woman, who had very... _prominent_ features, was not looking at the camera, but the other's instead, a warm smile gracing her face. Needless to say, Alfred was satisfied with the little trip he had made to look at the image.

"Hey Alfie, come on! I don't want to be standing here all day! Get back here or I'm leaving without you!" Gilbert all but yelled, only using the threat to bring his friend back. The albino wasn't the cleanest person in the world, but after feeling a large bug crawl up his arm, he was just about ready to book it out the house.

Being torn from his observing, Alfred turned and rolled his eyes at Gilbert's antics, calling back that he was just about ready. Going back to the picture, he reached out for it, ready to take it home. That is, until he glanced around the room again. Messy, dirty, completely totaled; the state of the room was just absolute anarchy, but the picture... it was safe and had nothing wrong with it. Obviously, someone had done this for a reason, leaving the picture spotless and in one piece because of one thing or another. So, as Alfred walked back to Gilbert and pointed to the stairs, a groan coming from the albino, he had no regrets. The picture was still in its place, the occupants within it smiling still, and the blond would sleep well that night knowing that's where they would remain.

* * *

Hey, Jacthine here again! Um, I saw this thing on a blog on tumblr, and basically it led me to this prompt on the hetalia kink meme, but I'll just sum it up right here.

So someone requested a story where one nation meets another through an unusual way, as in they don't actually meet or whatever. One of the bonuses was rusame, so I jumped on that bandwagon quickly. and, since I'm a total loser with no life, I decided I'd take up the writing of an actual multi-chapter fic. And just when I'm about ready to reply to the thread, I find out it's frozen. So now I'm here with a fanfic and just decide I'm not gonna trash it, but put it up here for you lovelies to read.

Anyway, hope you like it! I'm horrible at deciding what the genre, title, rating, and summary are, sorry if they're not right or whatever. If you could, leave a review telling me anything you like, even if it's criticism. Trust me, I need it. Um, that's all for now... don't know when you should expect another chapter to this, so don't get your hopes up.


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